


Rainbow Sushi

by peppermint_soda



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Shenanigans, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, and he hates it, eduardo actually cares for his friends, i can't find a drunk Jon fic anywhere, mostly written in eduardo's pov, so expect a lot of cursing, so here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24986416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_soda/pseuds/peppermint_soda
Summary: Sometimes, on weekends like this, Jon would get really drunk and Eduardo (or Mark) would have to spend the rest of the night taking care of him. Eduardo would drag him out of the bar, usually dealing with some pouting and whining when he insisted that no, he wasn’t allowed to take that drink home. He made sure Jon didn’t trip over his shoelaces, all while yelling at him to know his limits on the car ride home....But why did he do it? And why did he allow himself to get so attached to this idiot, anyway?xxxxtakes place before the End
Relationships: Eduardo/Jon (Eddsworld)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> woo boi you're in for a ride so i'm just gonna wish you good luck right now

It’s night time. The stillness of the neighborhood is peaceful.

While most people would be getting ready for bed right now - if not, fast asleep - two men have a few other things in mind.

Heavy footsteps signal that the roommates have finally returned home. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, but it’s not about to stay that way for long. 

Not if Jon has anything to say about it.

The sound of keys jingling and twisting into the lock announce the roommates’ presence to the quiet house. After a few seconds of difficulty, the door slams open. Two boys enter, bringing in chaos and the burst of summer heat inside with them. 

Eduardo and Jon had just returned from a long night at the bar. One had clearly been drinking too much, and the other was too sober to be amused.

"Heyyy, Eduardo! Eduardooo, I’m talking to youuuu-”

“What the _fuck_ could you possibly want now?”

...

“...Can we order pizza with pineapples on top?” Jon asks, testing the waters to see if Eduardo is in the mood to deal with his drunk nonsense and weird 2am cravings. Noticing the familiar, but mild annoyance on his friend's face, Jon musters the best puppy dog eyes he can _possibly_ give, in his drunken state, before shooting another hopeful glance in his roommate’s direction.

...And it _almost_ works.

Eduardo's breath hitches. Jon's eyes twinkle like all of the stars in the sky, and his lips are so pink and pouty, and needy, and-

 _"Pretty_ please _?”_ His roommate begs, balancing on tippy toes. He’s trying to reach Eduardo’s height. _“Pretty_ please?”

Eduardo bristles. It takes him a few seconds longer than he would like to admit to compose himself, but once he does, the stupidity of his roommate’s suggestion finally hits him.

The thing that pisses him off is that Jon doesn’t even _like_ pineapple, no, he only liked the way the fruit looked _._ Although he thought the bright yellow was alluring, Jon actually hated the sour taste, but he was so drunk right now that he probably forgot how much he hated them. And Eduardo knew that if he caved in and ordered the pizza for him, it would end up in the trash can by the end of the night, no matter how hungry Jon claimed he was. 

And really, Eduardo shouldn’t have been surprised. Jon had a habit of craving things he wouldn’t normally eat while sober.

But he wasn't dealing with rational, sober Jon. He had a drunk Jon on his hands, and while this side of him wasn’t new to Eduardo, it didn't make his drunk antics any easier to handle.

In fact, the last time the words _pineapple_ and _pizza_ were uttered in the same sentence had led to a full-fledged _argument_ between him and his other roommates. The four friends sat around the kitchen table yelling at each other until the clock crept closer to midnight: Mark and Jon had been drinking, Todd was high as shit (as usual), and Eduardo was the only sober, and therefore, _sane_ person awake that night. They were _supposed_ to be ordering pizza, because they were hungry and fed up with each other's bullshit, and Todd swore up and down that he would stab himself in the leg with a knife if he didn't get food in his system. _Right. Now._

(Todd was overdramatic as fuck, when high.)

Eduardo wasn't picky when it came to junk food. He was a simple man with simple tastes, and normally he would have gone along with whatever his friends wanted.

_...Normally._

However, a fierce disagreement began when they couldn't decide _which_ toppings they wanted. Jon, for some stupid _fucking_ reason, insisted that the pizza had to have pineapples on it, or he wouldn't touch it. Although he and Mark were both pretty drunk, the latter had retained enough common sense and wits about him to vehemently disagree. Mark knew about Jon’s hatred for pineapples (they all did), and they were trying to get him to own up to it.

Eduardo and Mark spent almost an hour trying to convince Jon that pineapples and cheese didn't mesh well together. Todd's high ass didn't contribute much to their side of the argument either, as the fucking troll loved to see drama go down.

Todd was the creator of chaos, and if defending Jon’s (very unpopular) opinion meant that it would piss off Eduardo more, well, so be it. Fanning the fire, he pounded on the table and cheered, " _Yeaa-aaaah, Jon!_ _Pineapple! Pineapple!"_

In his defense, Todd had smoked quite a bit prior, as Jon fought to defend said fruit from what he deemed to be 'slander'. Mark eventually told Jon to, quote, "Go to hell”, because only someone as evil as the Devil _himself_ could enjoy pineapple on pizza, and after calling Jon a "sick freak", he stormed (well, stumbled...) into his room and slammed the door so hard it almost _broke_ \- ignoring the desperate pleas of Todd who claimed that personally _,_ he didn't mind pineapples on pizza that much, and if anything, Mark could just pick them off, but the damage was **done**. 

The pizza shop closed, and the rest of the night was ruined. Eduardo went to bed hungry that night, dreaming of poorly synchronized pizza people singing him to sleep. He woke up more hungry and confused than he had ever been in his entire life.

...So, no. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Not after that incident.

"Pineapples and cheese don't go together," Eduardo snapped, a conversation that he had way too many times in the past. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even have to tack on an insult to showcase his disapproval. Jon's small face scrunches up, instantly dropping his cutesy act, and he looks about ready to argue again, but Eduardo stops him. 

"Besides, we have leftover food in the fridge. The sushi, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about that." 

_Yeah, well it’s a good thing I didn’t._

“Thanks, Eduardo! You're the best!" 

Jon hopped around happily (yeah, _hopped_ ) before he raced over to give him a quick hug. It was over before Eduardo could protest and swat him away, and when he opened his eyes again, he found his friend poking around the fridge searching for the promise of seaweed wrapped fish.

Eduardo heaved a sigh of relief. At least his friend's distraction would provide him some peace and quiet for a little while.

He sat on the floor of their small house, yawning as soon as his body hit the ground. Eduardo was sweaty and tired, but he knew if he laid on the couch he would fall asleep immediately. Besides, it was much cooler on the floor. It was at least 80 degrees outside, and he knew that laying on the squishy furniture would only make him hotter.

And god, was he _fucking_ tired.

Eduardo closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

For a second, the world seemed to melt away, and he considered the horrible, although tempting idea of calling it a night and passing out on the floor instead of-

_"Eduardoooo!"_

He jumped. The tone was high-pitched, and sounded way too intoxicated for his own good.

 _Oh, right._ He forgot he was on babysitting duty tonight.

"I can't find my chopsticks anywhere!" He heard Jon wail from the kitchen.

In his defense, Jon's intoxicated behavior usually wasn’t _this_ annoying to deal with. Sure, he was stupid, and sometimes flat out reckless, but there were also times when he said the dumbest shit, so ridiculous that even Eduardo found it hilarious.

Tonight was different, though. 

Because with every passing second, Eduardo felt his energy draining, and all he wanted to do was get some sleep. He was beyond exhausted. It was... well, _God knows_ how late it was. It was some unholy time between midnight and morning. His body was yelling at him to get some well deserved rest, and his tolerance for Jon’s bullshit was even lower than it usually was.

 _Yeah, like it was ever that high to begin with._ He could hear Mark taunting him. That dickhead could piss off Eduardo without trying, even when he wasn’t there. A talent he possessed since high school.

 _Shut up, Mark._ He snapped, out of habit. The illusion of his pretentious roommate disappeared.

...Huh? 

Was he arguing with _himself_ right now? Damn, he _was_ tired.

Remembering that Jon was probably waiting for a response, Eduardo yelled, “Just use a fork!”

“Whaaaaat!?” Jon yelled into the fridge, probably knocking things over and looking for a pair of chopsticks that weren’t even there anymore.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake-_

"I said, just use a _fucking_ fork!"

The shouting stopped almost immediately. The house went quiet, as if Jon was taking in some sort of revolutionary information. Eduardo heard a soft gasp, and he glanced towards him, because he _knew_ Jon, he knew he was stupid enough to drop something. Probably a food item (and probably something sticky, because Jon just had the _worst_ luck in the world), and Eduardo would have to be the one to clean it up in the morning.

Instead, Jon’s head pops up from the fridge door, nearly scaring the shit out of his sober roommate. He looks offended that Eduardo would even _suggest_ such a thing. 

"And _disrespect_ the culture? No way!"

 _Sigh._

...Alright, so Jon wasn't going to use a fork? 

Fine. He was too tired to argue with him. That drunk idiot could _choke_ on sushi, for all he cared.

"Just keep your voice down!" Eduardo shouted back, too angry to realize that he was yelling just as loudly. He checked the digital clock on the television’s cable box, and nearly had a heart attack. "It is almost three in the _fucking_ morning!” His words suddenly dawned on him, as he realized his dickhead roommate was probably sleeping peacefully upstairs. “You know Mark has work tomorrow, right? If you wake him up, I’ll kick your ass!” Sure, Mark could be a dickhead, and a pretentious little fuckface, but Eduardo couldn’t help but care about him. They were roommates for a reason, after all. Even on the days when they barely tolerated each other.

...He also didn’t want Mark to wake up and have to hear him bitching about ruining his “beauty sleep”, so it was a win-win situation.

"Oh, right!” Jon said, not lowering his voice in the slightest. “Sorry!" 

Eduardo shoots him a warning look.

Thankfully, Jon gets the message loud and clear. In a hushed tone, he repeats, a little more sincere and bashful than before, _"_ Sorry...”

Jon's face was still hidden by the fridge door, but Eduardo could envision him perfectly, all flushed and embarrassed from being scolded, and his trademark cheeky grin when he got caught doing something wrong-

 _Fuck._

Eduardo shook his head, shoving the mental image to the back of his mind. He felt a headache coming on, but chose to ignore it. Seriously, what was up with him tonight?

When Jon finally resurfaced - _"Aha! Found it!"_ \- he held up a small plastic tray in his hands, grinning from ear to ear like he had just won the lottery. The action was so overly dramatic, Eduardo could practically hear _The Legend of Zelda_ music, the song that plays when you’ve acquired an important item. He loved playing that game as a kid, and he's struck with the sudden realization that Jon would probably make a great character in a video game. Spontaneous, naive, and radiating with a positivity so bright, it sometimes made Eduardo a little nauseous. Jon wasn't a troublemaker (not by a long shot), but he _was_ clueless enough to get himself into trouble. Hell, it would probably kickstart the game's fast paced plot.

Jon walks over to him carefully, taking every step with great earnestness and caution, and he probably thinks he looks insanely coordinated right now, but in reality? He looks like he could trip over his own two feet within seconds.

He looks so stupid, in fact, that Eduardo remembers a time when they all went out to drink — with the exception of himself, of course, because he couldn't _stand_ the taste of alcohol, no, he was stuck with the great honor of being the designated driver — and Jon was trying to prove that he wasn't really _that_ drunk, and _honestly, if he could talk like this, then that probably meant he was reaaaally sober, riiiight?_

Eduardo and Mark obviously weren't falling for that bullshit. So Mark said, "Okay Jon, fine. If you're drunk- _wait,_ I mean, _sober_ (and yes, Mark was drunk too), then why don’t you try walking in a straight line? Near that curb over there.”

"What are you, an undercover cop or something? Outta my way!" Jon replied, with bold confidence that almost could have been admirable if he wasn't _shitfaced_ out of his mind.

They were in the parking lot of a pub. Looking back, probably not the best location to act like kids and do stupid shit, but his friends were drunk and Jon wasn't backing down from a challenge, insisting that he was totally fine, and _actually, as a matter of fact Mark, he couldn't have felt better._

Jon was too busy shouting about how “not drunk” he was, that he didn't see Mark reach into his pocket and take out his phone _so_ fast, it almost dropped onto the concrete and _shattered_ into a billion crystal pieces. Even though Mark caught it in time, seeing it almost slip from his fingertips left Eduardo traumatized.

But Mark, unbothered as hell, wasted no time hitting the record button — and sober Mark was already annoying enough with the whole, _wait let's take pictures of our food before we eat_ thing, but drunk Mark loved to Snapchat _everything_ — and Eduardo heard him chuckle something like, "Oh _this_ is gonna be good." 

(Because, in case you haven’t already figured it out yet, Mark is evil.)

So Mark stood on one end of the imaginary line, and Eduardo stood somewhere near the other end, planning to catch Jon if (or, _when_ ) he fell. Eduardo had physically hauled Mark’s drunk ass home a couple of times before, so honestly, this would be nothing new for any of them.

Jon braced himself, took a deep breath, and then whispered, _"Okay...",_ like he had to mentally _prepare_ himself for the stupid shit he was about to attempt.

Then, everything went still. 

As Mark’s chuckles die down, a quiet atmosphere surrounds the roommates, and it's surprising, but not uncomfortable.

No one moves, the anticipation in the air is too thick and heavy. Eduardo's watching Jon, Mark's watching the tiny Jon in his video recording, and Jon's looking at… well, something? His gaze is unfocused, he’s clearly way too drunk for this, and for a split second, Eduardo sees a glimmer in Jon’s eyes that wasn't there before, and he thinks it's Jon's sober self starting to kick in, telling him _don't do it_ because _this won't end well._

He doesn’t listen to it.

Jon takes three _shaky_ steps fueled with determination and something to prove - and, you ever seen someone concentrate so hard they look angry? Yeah, that was Jon - and Eduardo’s first thoughts are _holy shit_ _he's doing it_ , _this idiot is actually doing it-_

Jon makes it about halfway into the nonexistent line before he breaks out into a spectacularly uncoordinated _moonwalk_ \- a train wreck of limbs flailing and dancing _so_ _badly_ , _so_ _offbeat_ , it's like witnessing a car accident in motion, and for _some_ reason Eduardo can't tear his eyes away.

Mark laughs so hard he _snorts_ (he won't admit to it later; Eduardo thinks it's a good thing they have it on recording) and his legs buckle and shake like he's about to fall, but he catches himself at the last minute.

Eduardo yells over to Jon, "Alright, _alright,_ I think you proved your point!" over the simultaneous laughter that rings out into the night sky.

He lives with a bunch of idiots, but despite himself, he can't help but smile at the stupid memory.

Meanwhile, Jon enters the living room, plastic covered sushi in one hand and a sauce packet clutched in the other. He finds Eduardo sitting on the floor, his back pressed up against the wall. He’s not exactly sure _why_ he’s on the floor, but he’s too drunk to question it. Eduardo’s eyes are closed, lost deep in thought, and his breathing is soft and steady. Jon watches his roommate’s features gradually soften and change to one of amusement - whatever he's thinking about must be _hilarious,_ he guesses - with a smile tugging at his lips. After a few stumbles and shaky attempts, Jon manages to sit on the floor next to his friend _without_ dropping the sacred sushi in his hand. He places the plastic tray on the floor nearby and crawls over to Eduardo. He doesn’t notice, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Smiling like a moron, Jon looks like the epitome of success and happiness, as if balancing his food without dropping it is the greatest thing he could achieve tonight. Then, he looks at Eduardo, all happy and peaceful - which are incredibly rare traits for him - and he feels something tugging at his heartstrings. A sudden rush of happiness hits Jon, and he feels incredibly...lucky? Grateful? He can’t quite identify the emotion, but he’s just happy he gets to experience his two favorite vices simultaneously: Alcohol, and Eduardo. 

Speaking of the latter, he wonders if Eduardo fell asleep. He wouldn’t be too surprised; it was pretty late. He looks over at his roommate again, and considers his options.

Well, he could always _check_ to see if he was awake. 

He scoots a little closer to Eduardo, quiet as a mouse.

 _"Hiii,"_ Jon whispers once he's close enough, right in Eduardo’s ear, to see if he can scare him, or piss him off. Both reactions would be equally funny. 

Eduardo's head snaps up, eyes wide, before he realizes who it is. He rolls his eyes and momentarily stretches, fighting back a yawn. He wants to snap at Jon, like he usually does, but he’s too tired. He’ll get back at him for this in the morning.

"Hey," He responds.

He notices the carefully wrapped fish in Jon's fingertips. Apparently, Jon decided that his hands would be more efficient than chopsticks, or a fork, or _any_ utensil for that matter. Eduardo studies him for a few moments, watching his drunk roommate slowly pick up pieces of sushi and place them into his mouth with a reverent sincerity and eagerness. He looks like he's trying to savor the moment, like this might be his very last meal on earth, so he better enjoy it. Jon hums softly in pure bliss, and Eduardo realizes that _this_ is what Mark was talking about when he told him that food tasted 10x better when you were drunk (He had told him, whilst very drunk.)

Jon's curious gaze meets his own, and they hold eye contact for maybe a second longer than they meant to. It feels a little awkward, and Eduardo turns away before he can fully process whatever the _fuck_ he's feeling right now.

Equally uncomfortable, and suddenly feeling a little too drunk for his liking, Jon volunteers to change the subject.

"Want some?" He offers innocently.

He hates sushi, but with the way Jon's chewing so eagerly, he can't help but think that the sushi rolls have started to look a little appetizing. Eduardo had, what Mark called, a “love-hate relationship” with raw fish, but, what the hell, if he was staying up a little longer he might as well eat _something._

"Whatever." 

Jon nods, and holds the small plastic tray out in front of him. He worries that Jon is going to dig his fingers into the uncooked fish and _literally_ hand it to him, like the drunk idiot he is, but fortunately, he does no such thing. Instead, Jon holds out the tray and just waits, and Eduardo appreciates that at least the alcohol hasn’t killed off all of his brain cells yet.

He eyes the best piece before he picks it up, using his fingers as faux chopsticks. Eduardo sniffs it, like he does with most foods that freak him out, before tasting it.

...

Huh. 

_Not bad._ But he couldn’t see himself craving it, or going out of his way to purchase it.

“What’s in this anyway?” Eduardo asks.

“I don’t knoooow,” Jon answers, while stretching his arms, too drunk to care.

 _Idiot._ Eduardo turns away to hide his smile. 

The weird vibe between the duo dissipates. They eat in comfortable silence for a bit, and it’s oddly... peaceful. 

The sudden tranquility allows Eduardo's mind to wander, and he thinks about before.

"Jon?"

"Hmm?" He's currently preoccupied with chewing to give an actual response.

"If we were in a video game..." He begins. 

But Jon shakes his head rapidly, cutting him off.

 _"Noooo,”_ He protests, stretching out the word like clay. “You know I _hate_ when you and Todd come up with those... _weird_ conspiracy theories. I don't wanna believe we're living in a simulation!" In a much softer tone, Jon adds, more to himself, "It really freaks me out..."

Eduardo chuckles at the dramatic display, and shakes his head. Although he _does_ enjoy freaking Jon out, tonight isn’t one of those nights. He doesn’t have the energy to fully commit to character. Besides, Jon was drunk, and Eduardo may be sadistic, but he wasn’t downright _evil_. He didn’t want to scare his friend in his already intoxicated state. 

"Don't worry, this isn't another conspiracy theory, I swear." But he made a mental reminder to look for more when Jon was sober. He needed new scare material, after all.

Jon eyes him suspiciously, still not quite convinced. He knew Eduardo too well. "...Promise?"

Eduardo nods. Jon sighs, but listens intently.

"If we were in a video game, what kind of character do you think I would be?"

"Hmm," Jon looks at another sushi roll between his fingers, quietly admiring the way it's wrapped. He thinks about the question for a few seconds, staring at Eduardo like he's trying to solve a riddle. "You? Well, that's easy..."

A small smile graces Eduardo's lips, eager to hear whatever his roommate would say next. Jon revels in the rare sight. He’d never say it aloud - especially now that he’s _verry_ drunk - but Eduardo’s smile has been giving him oversized butterflies in his stomach since their high school days. It wasn’t very often that he smiled, but when he did, and Jon was lucky enough to witness, it was genuine, and it came from the heart.

Jon smiles in silent introspection. His roommate certainly may act tough, may act like he doesn’t care, but he sees right through him. Eduardo’s brown eyes always give him away, and right now, they twinkle with quiet curiosity. Patiently waiting to hear what Jon will say next. 

And Jon _loves_ it.

"...You'd be the _villain,"_ He finally answers with a victorious smirk. It frames his face beautifully. Eduardo tries to respond, but mentally curses his own luck (in a blend of spanglish), when he hears himself stumble over his words like a kid.

Mistaking this for a retort, Jon quickly adds, _"But_ _wait-_ wait! Just hear me out! I think you would be the villain in the game, _but...!_ After the main character gets to... _understand_ you, and learns about your...real intentions, they eventually learn that you have this _really_ tragic backstory that _perfectly_ explains why you acted the way you did. And, it turns out, you aren't _really_ the bad guy of the story, after all."

"You-” 

"And then you become a playable character. _After_ the kid beats the game for the first time," Jon continues, all giggly from excitement.

Eduardo stares at him blankly, trying to take in all of the words at once. 

Finally, after a beat, he guesses, “You’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now, haven’t you?”

Jon nods enthusiastically, clearly proud of said fact.

Eduardo shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?”

_Yeah, like he doesn’t already know._

Despite himself, he breaks character when he notices Jon trying not to laugh. 

"And I wasn't going to disagree,” Eduardo chuckles. “Personally, I think I’d make a badass villain." 

If anything, he was flattered.

This makes Jon laugh until he's clutching his stomach. It sounds _fucking_ gorgeous, so naturally, Eduardo hates it.

"Yeah, me too," Jon giggles, after he manages to control himself. He rewards him with a dopey little smile, and Eduardo’s cheeks heat up instantly. And then, after a thoughtful pause, he says, "But I like you better as the good guy."

"Corny. As. Hell." Eduardo replies, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach. He forces himself not to focus on Jon saying the words, _“I like you”,_ and pushes down the warmth blooming in his chest. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have no idea how hard it is to write this and NOT make jon x sushi happen. im trying, okay?  
> also eduardo is so deep in the closet it honestly hurts to write. he's too bisexual for his own good ;-; is anyone gonna tell him?
> 
> trigger warning / brief mention of panic attacks

The roommates sit on the floor, talking and laughing about unimportant matters that they'll probably forget about in the morning. It's the middle of some unholy hour, but neither wants to go to bed yet. 

(Secretly, both roommates are trying to stay awake for the other.)

The only thing between them is the small plastic tray comfortably sitting in Jon's lap. Jon reaches for another sushi roll and holds it in his fingers like he's studying perfection. When he places it in his mouth, he looks like he's floated up to heaven.

“This is good,” He whispers in awe, as if he has made the discovery of a lifetime. “And I am _verrry_ happy right now.”

“You’re always happy,” Eduardo mumbles under his breath. He fights the urge to roll his eyes as he speaks, but it’s true. Jon isn't hard to please, and it doesn't take much to keep him satisfied. He celebrated the smaller things in life — puddles on rainy days, marshmallows melting into hot chocolate, random conversations with strangers — and it was something that Eduardo could never understand. Life could be cruel, disastrous even, and yet Jon always managed to keep this cheerful energy about him. It was almost like he had this unbreakable _optimism_ _forcefield~_ constantly surrounding him.

And most days, Eduardo thought it was annoying as hell.

But even though he would never admit it, he couldn't deny that there was some strength in that stupid resilience. 

Jon swallows the rest of what's in his mouth and shrugs. “Maybe."

Eduardo doesn’t say anything else. He doesn't need to. Jon leans his head against the wall, content. They've exhausted every other conversation they could think of. Now, they enjoy each other's company without the interruption of corny jokes and playful banter.

And it's...

Nice.

Eduardo can’t really describe it. It’s not like this moment between them is particularly special.

If anything, it's pretty normal.

Sometimes, on weekends like this, Jon would get really drunk and Eduardo would have to spend the rest of the night taking care of him. He would drag him out of the bar, usually dealing with some pouting and whining when he insisted that _no,_ he couldn't bring that drink home. He made sure Jon didn’t trip over his shoelaces, all while yelling at him to know his limits on the car ride home. 

Depending on how much he drank was a good predictor of how he would act. Some nights, Jon was a burst of energy; other nights he would fall asleep in the car. But Eduardo preferred somewhere in between, where Jon was tipsy enough to be teased by their friends, but still alert enough to carry a conversation that made sense. Eduardo only witnessed Jon _really_ drunk once _,_ and that experience was _nowhere_ near fun.

He remembers him and Mark fighting over watch duty; they agreed to switch shifts every 30 minutes because Jon was too much, and for some reason he just _wouldn’t_ sober up. Every time they tried to put him to bed, he would insist he wasn’t tired, and found some stupid reason to crawl out of his room, and it was _always_ something with him _(oh, he wanted a midnight snack, or, oh, he just had to use the bathroom real quick.)_ They eventually learned that they couldn’t fall asleep when Jon _wasn’t_ asleep, and they had to stay up the whole night trying to coax him into getting to bed. When they finally managed to put him to sleep - and get him to _stay_ asleep - Eduardo and Mark knocked out immediately. They were utterly exhausted. 

But the worst part of it came in the morning: Jon didn’t have a hangover, the lucky bastard got _no_ form of karma, and he couldn’t recall anything that had happened the night before. In other words, he had no memory of the awful night he had put his roommates through, and Mark had to physically _restrain_ Eduardo from choking the hell out of him. From that night on, with dark circles under his eyes, Eduardo swore that he would _never_ allow Jon to get that drunk again. Besides, he had some pretty good motivation to prevent that from happening. Hearing Jon’s high pitched voice slurred was the true definition of torture — it was like watching your favorite cartoon slowed down, and it gave Eduardo headaches for weeks.

...And yet, despite all of that, he never thought Jon was too much to handle.

Because, as much as he hated to admit it - and tried to mask it with sarcasm and petty insults - there _is_ a tiny piece of him that actually cares about Jon.

(And _yes,_ Eduardo wants to **crush** that tiny piece to dust.)

Maybe he got used to his roommate driving him crazy, the longer they lived together. But Eduardo put up with his bullshit because Jon dealt with his. Both of them were _nowhere_ near perfect - two jagged puzzle pieces. But they helped each other when they could, supported each other when they needed it, and got angry when they thought the other was doing something reckless.

And Eduardo knew that if tonight's situation were reversed (and it never would be, because he _hated_ alcohol — he would never understand how his friends could tolerate the bitter taste) Jon would be right there taking care of him (pushing his hair out of his face, probably hunched over, next to a toilet bowl...) until he fully came back to his senses, and so, Eduardo would do it for him all over again in a heartbeat.

Something about this thought was comforting.

He found himself searching for some sort of explanation, but he could never come up with one that made sense. He couldn't understand it, or maybe he didn't want to understand it.

Maybe he enjoyed spending more time with Jon that he thought.

Maybe he took moments like this for granted, viewing them as nuisances rather than...

...

...

 _...Yeah, no way._ Eduardo shakes his head, stifling laughter. Jon looks up at him curiously, but doesn’t question it, too preoccupied with eating.

_God, I must be really tired tonight._

He couldn't understand a lot of things between them, but maybe he didn't need to. After all, he's happy. Jon's happy.

~~_Right?_ ~~

And maybe, maybe that was enough.

...

...

...Of course, he also couldn't explain that _stupid_ feeling he got whenever Jon smiled in his direction, but-

Nevermind.

He wasn't going to question that. 

_And why am I thinking about this crap anyway?_

He wasn’t drunk. Jon was.

And speaking of his roommate...

Eduardo glances at the sushi tray sitting in Jon's lap. He wonders how the sushi would look if he plucked off the rice one by one. _Probably gross,_ he decides. _And bald._

What's sushi without the rice, anyway? _Impossible, that's what._ When Eduardo tries to envision the riceless sushi roll, a wave of disappointment settles deep into his soul. The mental image is depressing enough. _It just wouldn't be the same._ Rice on sushi is like the soft blanket on a bed - it's essential,and anyone who says otherwise is a _monster._ Or insane. Or both. Without the rice, the sushi would look so bland, so empty, so... _bald._ Not that there's anything _wrong_ with bald people, but he just couldn't imagine eating _bald sushi-_

Wow.

Yeah, it's time to head to bed. This lack of sleep is slowly eating away at his sanity.

His inner musings are interrupted by an exasperated sigh. Confused, Eduardo looks at his roommate.

Jon is currently struggling to open what appears to be a ketchup packet, but upon closer inspection, Eduardo realizes it’s... _oh. Soy sauce._ He doesn’t really care for the taste, but Jon loves sushi, so naturally, he loves soy sauce too. However, he can't seem to get it open, no matter _how_ hard he tries. He wrestles with the wrapper, his gaze burning with a vengeance that Eduardo has never seen in him before. 

_...Is this kid serious?_

Yeah, it looks like he’s _really_ going at it. Eduardo stares at him, amazed to witness such an intense struggle in HD. 

_I mean, he has to tear it open eventually._

Okay, this might be entertaining to watch. He wishes he had some popcorn, though. 

Whatever. He decides he’ll go to bed after his roommate succeeds. 

So, Eduardo waits.

…

...And _waits._

…

_...And waits?_

Jon tussles with the wrapper for a few more seconds, clearly growing frustrated by the lack of progress he’s making. Eduardo studies his tight knit features, his dead serious concentration - even _through_ his drunken haze - and…

He thinks it is fucking hilarious.

He's trying not to laugh, trying _really_ hard not to, but it’s like he physically can’t stop himself. He can't help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the spectacle playing out before him: His drunk roommate _struggling_ to open a soy sauce packet like it was the most difficult task in the entire universe.

Is this packet made out of indestructible fibers or something? Judging by the faces his roommate is making, it seemed likely.

And if the situation stopped there, maybe Eduardo would have been able to contain his laughter. What kills him is _watching_ Jon's futile attempts. His fingernails aren’t sharp enough to tear it open; he can’t even get a good grip on it. The plastic keeps sliding between his soft fingers, silently mocking him.

 _Yeah, you punk ass bitch._ It probably whispered to Jon’s intoxicated brain. _You can’t open me._

Jon grits his teeth. _Challenge accepted._

Eduardo shakes his head as his laughter subsides. He kinda feels badfor the poor guy. 

"Just give it to me."

“Nahh, don't worry..." Jon's voice trails off, focused on ripping the packet to shreds. "I... I think I got it.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.”

Jon puffs up his cheeks, insulted. Eduardo takes this as an opportunity to continue.

"Look, you’re gonna get it all over you if you keep holding it like that. And, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but soy sauce stains are a real pain in the ass to clean up."

Jon pouts, but tosses him the packet. The trust between them is like an unspoken agreement. _Don’t worry about it, I got it._ Again, this moment isn’t special. Eduardo does this often, opening pickle jars or... tightly sealed water bottles. He used to complain about how annoying it was, but he’s done it so many times now it’s like second nature.

Besides, Jon does more annoying things on a daily basis, so maybe his tolerance just got higher.

Eduardo rips the packet open with his teeth (despite Jon's protests: _"Eww! You got spit all over it!"_ ). Then, he picks up the tray and pours the dark liquid into its corners. This is intentional. Jon hates when the soy sauce is poured directly over his food; he likes when it's spread _across_ the tray so he can have an even amount on each sushi roll.

_Like the fucking weirdo he is, drunk idiot can’t even eat sushi properly-_

“ _Alriiiight..._ ” Said idiot whispers, keeping an eye on his pouring. However, because Jon's drunk, his regard for personal space is close to nonexistent. Trying to get a better view of the tray, he leans into Eduardo more than intended. His chin nearly _crashes_ into Eduardo's chest, but fortunately, he catches himself at the last minute. Nervous laughter bubbles out of Jon before he can stop himself; he knows the situation probably isn't that funny, but he's too drunk to be serious. Jon offers an apologetic smile. Eduardo narrows his eyes, but grabs his shoulders to keep him steady. 

When Jon thinks his roommate isn't looking, he scoots a little closer. Eduardo rolls his eyes, but ignores this.

For someone drunk off his ass, Jon smells... weirdly good. Not like vanilla or cinnamon or anything - because no one _actually_ smells like that, that’s a load of bullshit - but Eduardo catches a whiff of the strawberry shampoo he had borrowed from Mark earlier, and the familiar scent of cologne - _his_ cologne, Eduardo recognizes, and there's something about Jon wearing _his_ cologne that is making his brain _short circuit_ and flip the _fuck_ out. It's the same cologne that Jon always swore to buy his own of, yet continued to use whenever they went out together. Eduardo knows he should feel annoyed, because his stupid roommate keeps _stealing_ his stuff behind his back, but he's mesmerized by how incredible his cologne smells on Jon's skin. It's like Jon was meant to wear it.

Suddenly, it dawns on Eduardo that this is the closest he's ever been to his roommate (well, the closest he's ever _allowed_ the idiot to be, anyway), and Jon's probably too drunk to even notice.

And if he were sober, Eduardo would have pushed him away and told him to watch his personal space bubble, like he usually did. But because he's drunk, and Eduardo knows that any push of the _slightest_ strength would probably send him flying, he decides against it.

So he tries to ignore his close presence, and while he can only _hope_ he looks calm and sane on the outside, his heart is loudly pounding against his chest. Eduardo hates how warm and fluttery he feels when his roommate leans in closer to him. He feels Jon's soft breathing against his neck. He feels the heat radiating off of his smaller frame, and his flushed cheeks, dusted a light pink, as Jon inches closer, _and closer,_ and-

“...Uhh, Eduardo?" Jon gives him a gentle, but firm, shake. Is Eduardo going through cardiac arrest or something? Jon doesn’t know how to perform CPR! He failed that class in high school. _Twice._ Growing nervous, Jon shakes him again. "Hey, you're pouring too much! Snap out of it!"

“W-What? Huh?”

Eduardo startles, completely flustered. It takes him a second to understand what's happening, but Jon’s frantic shaking is enough to break the spell. His face feels like it’s _on fire,_ the heat traveling down to his neck, and Eduardo doesn’t even _want_ to imagine how red he probably looks right now. He glances down at the sushi tray in his tight grip, and it's shaking, his hands are _shaking._ There’s soy sauce _dripping_ from the tray and _holy shit how much sauce do they put in those tiny packets_ and Eduardo has definitely poured out too much. In fact, it looked like he had never _stopped_ pouring, his brain running on autopilot, while his body was frozen in place.

He must have scared the alcohol out of his roommate, because he looks incredibly sobered up now. Jon's eyes shine with worry and concern. Eduardo’s heart aches at the sight; he _knows_ he must have shaken him up. He feels a surge of guilt, but ultimately, it’s the embarrassment that gets the better of him, because Jon had saw him... saw him looking like-

Fuck.

_Fuck._

_Okay, Eduardo. Speak words._ _Jon’s probably expecting_ some _sort of explanation after..._ _that. All you need to do is talk your way out of this, and you’ll be fine._

"..."

_Say anything! Dammit, use your fucking words! The longer you stay quiet, the more suspicious you’re gonna look!_

"…"

 _For fuck’s sake, Eduardo, say_ something _, you idiot!_

“Oh, uh. I mean, you-” He sputters helplessly.

 _Good. Fucking. Job. You really outdid yourself with that one, huh? Great, just great! How else do you want to fuck up the rest of tonight? Because you are_ killing _it right now._

 _Are you an idiot? Are you an_ actual _fucking idiot? Are you-_

“-okay? Are you okay, Eduardo?” Jon's soft voice brings him back to reality. His roommate's hand is resting on his knee now, gentle and reassuring.

Jon bites his lip, wondering if if he should say something else or let Eduardo speak first. He fights the urge to bombard him with questions, opting to give his roommate some time to gather his thoughts. 

Eduardo takes a shaky breath. His eyes are glued to the dripping tray in front of him. The sushi looks brown and soggy, the rice and seaweed spilling out like someone had tossed them up into the air and let them splatter. It’s almost gross but, Eduardo thinks, still in a daze, that if he were some rich and famous artist, this would _probably_ be considered art. Abstract art that could be sold at a high price, and people from all over the world would flock to see it, but his fantasy vanishes as quickly as it came, as he remembers that _no,_ he is _not_ some rich and famous artist, this isn’t some _stupid_ abstract art, he’s sitting here next to his drunk roommate and he just spilled soy sauce all over himself like a _fucking_ idiot. He just embarrassed himself trying to complete the most _basic_ task, and all because his _stupid_ roommate got a little too close to him, his _stupid_ roommate just had to smell _fucking_ wonderful, and of course, Jon chose _this_ night, out of all nights, to wear **_his_** _fucking_ cologne like it was _his,_ to press up against him like _he_ was **_his_** _,_ and Eduardo is so angry, so _desperate_ that he hates it, he _hates_ it so much-

“You know,” Jon begins carefully, watching the different emotions flicker across Eduardo’s face. “You got really quiet there for a second. It was almost like… your brain shut down, or something.” He forces himself to laugh, to lighten the mood, but it comes out awkward and forced. “You kind of looked...” Jon considers his choice of words, hoping not to upset his roommate any further. “Tense?”

He pauses, secretly hoping that Eduardo will interrupt him before he accidentally says something stupid. Like he usually does. 

There’s an unreadable expression on his roommate's face, but he stays silent.

This is what worries Jon the most.

Eduardo never stayed this quiet, and even when he did, his facial expressions spoke louder than the words left unsaid. Jon knew from experience. He was an easy book to read, because he never tried to conceal how he felt about anything. He was blunt and direct. It was a defining (and notorious) aspect of his personality - even if it sometimes did get him into trouble. 

But maybe that's what made Eduardo's unexpected reactions so much easier to handle. Jon wasn't psychic, but he could tell when his roommate was getting angry vs. annoyed, or happy vs. excited. Even when Eduardo was silent, his bright eyes always gave him away.

So for Jon to feel like he couldn't decipher what his friend was thinking right now was almost a little... unnerving. For once, he couldn't tell if Eduardo was angry - well, more importantly, angry at _him_ \- which was crazy, because Jon could always tell. But right now, he had no idea what could be running through Eduardo's head. Maybe it was the alcohol in Jon's system tripping him up. Still, he was determined to comfort him in any way that he could.

Jon waits for a few more seconds to see if Eduardo will say anything else.

He doesn't.

Hesitantly, Jon continues.

“I, uh, thought you were having a panic attack or something, so… I was trying to, um, ground you, I guess? That’s... that’s what Mark calls it.” Jon looks aways, suddenly embarrassed. “But um, I’m not really good at it, I’ve never... had to do that for anyone but myself before, so, I…”

Jon trails off awkwardly. He’s so used to Eduardo interrupting him, cutting him off before he can finish what he wants to say. The uncharacteristic silence makes Jon feel like he’s walking on eggshells. 

“But, uh, I think I did it wrong so, I probably... I probably just made things worse-”

_“You think!?”_

Jon flinches at the harsh tone.

“What is wrong with you!? Why the _hell_ would you do that!? Do you even _know_ what personal space is?”

Jon tries to speak, but Eduardo cuts him off. He's livid. And like always, when Eduardo's angry, he can't control the cruel words that fall out of his mouth. 

“That’s the last time I ever _offer_ to do anything nice for you! Do you realize how uncomfortable that made me feel? _Seriously!_ What the _hell_ were you thinking? Did you even bother to think at all??”

“Wait, I-!”

Eduardo doesn’t know _who_ the anger is directed to, whether it’s towards Jon or himself, but he doesn’t care. He feels so overwhelmed, so _bitter,_ it's like he can’t stop himself.

“And why didn’t you tell me I was pouring too much!? You _made_ me spill this soy sauce shit all over the fucking floor. Were you ever going to think about telling me _once?_ Or do you just _like_ to see me mess up, you just _love_ to see me looking like an idiot, right!?”

_Yeah, go ahead. Attack him like you usually do, when your true feelings become too much to handle. Blame someone else, always blame someone else..._

“That’s not true! You’ve got it all wrong!” Jon shoots back, once he’s found his voice again. It’s strange to hear him shouting like this; it almost feels fake. “Eduardo, I would never do that to you! Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to-, I’m not trying to make you look stupid at all!”

But Eduardo is fuming, too consumed with anger and bottled up tension. Hyper focused on the mess in front of them, he doesn't want to address the real events that led up to it.

“Then why the _fuck_ didn’t you stop me?” He hisses. Jon shrinks back. “You _saw_ me spilling soy sauce all over the damn floor, and you didn’t even try to-”

**_“I did!”_ **

Eduardo freezes, completely stunned. 

Surprised by his own outburst, Jon looks away, frustrated and hurt. 

“Or, at least, I _tried_ to. I kept saying your name but… you weren’t listening to me at all. It was like you couldn’t even _hear_ me! That’s why I got so nervous!”

_What?_

Eduardo's brain comes to a halt as he struggles to process this new information.

 _He was... trying to talk to me...?_

Jon takes a deep breath, his lips trembling. He looks like he's about to say something else, but he shakes his head.

Everything is still. The only sound that can be heard is the dull whirring of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen.

The tension between them feels unbreakable.

Neither roommate speaks, both afraid of making the situation worse than it already is.

They stare at the sushi tray instead, watching the soy sauce _drip, drip, drip,_ and sink into the living room carpet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...that stupid soy sauce packet.
> 
> this chapter was so difficult to write i died MULTIPLE times trying to write this
> 
> and i'm honestly surprised people actually read this lol hi mom!  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated (:


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